The theater was emptying out in remarkably orderly fashion. Most people, I’d imagine, were just glad to be able to escape from a scene of such horror. I wished I could escape myself. Three such shocks in one week were a little much for even the strongest of constitutions. And in this case I couldn’t shake off the feeling of guilt that kept nagging at me. I was hired to protect him, a voice kept whispering in my head. I should have been able to do something. Of course this was nonsense, since he had been unwilling to divulge his own suspicions to me, but the thought kept haunting me. Also I was now cold and shivering in my flimsy costume.
“Would it be all right if I went to change my clothes?” I asked. “I’m really cold.”
“That might be a good idea.” Daniel eyed me up and down. “But I don’t want you wandering around back there. Not until my men have had a chance to search the whole place.”
“I’d be happy to escort this lady to her dressing room if you fear for her safety,” Abdullah said.
“Thank you, but I prefer that everyone remain here right now.”
“Here, miss, put this around you.” One of the stagehands took down Houdini’s frock coat and put it around my shoulders. Suddenly, I remembered the keys in the pocket. Two keys that wouldn’t fit the trunk. I glanced down at the ground, noticed them still lying where they had been dropped, and bent to pick them up. I glanced back to see whether Daniel was looking, but he was interviewing the other illusionists. I tucked the keys into the waistband of my costume where there was a little pocket.
“Would it be all right if we went now?” I heard one of the volunteers from the audience ask as I straightened up again. “After all, we were nothing to do with the show. We only volunteered to come up here. My wife will be waiting for me. She was still in the audience.”
“I understand, sir. It’s inconvenient for all of us,” Daniel said. He looked up with relief as a voice called out, “Captain Sullivan?”
“Up here, MacAffrey!” Daniel called and a fresh-faced young policeman came up to the stage, followed by a retinue of constables.
“Take a look at this,” Daniel said, and explained what had happened. “Examine the body and tell me what you think.” He stood up to address the men who had accompanied MacAffrey. “I want this place searched. Every inch of it. I want to know where this man was killed, so look for traces of blood. He was obviously caught by surprise and finished off efficiently, so I don’t expect to find any sign of a scuffle. And you’re looking for any place that someone could hide.” He indicated two of the men. “You two. Outside the theater. Ask anyone working nearby—flower sellers, vendors, whether they saw Houdini come out. His picture is all over the posters so I’m sure they’d have recognized him. He can’t just have vanished. If he’s not here, he left the theater somehow.”
The men went about their duty and Daniel knelt beside the young detective. “Have you brought a photographer?”
“Yes, sir. Jackson has the photographic equipment.”
“Then let’s set it up and get a photograph of the body right away.”
A policeman began setting up equipment and suddenly there was a blinding flash and the air smelled of sulfur.
“So what do you think, MacAffrey?”
“Definitely killed here, I’d say, sir,” the young detective said. “And not too long ago.”
“That’s what I thought too. And a nice neat job, wouldn’t you say?”
The shirt was now fully open and they were examining the wound on the chest. Actually there was a surprisingly small amount of blood, compared to the horrors of what had happened to Lily the other night.
“A stiletto, from the size of the wound,” the younger man said. “And he knew exactly where to put it to cause instant death.”
“So we’re dealing with a professional,” Daniel muttered. “A professional assassin comes into the theater, kills a man, and substitutes his body for Houdini in a trunk that doesn’t ever leave the stage. A pretty puzzle, wouldn’t you say.” He glanced up at the other illusionists. “Any suggestions, gentlemen?”
“Don’t ask me. I’m just a carnival man. I know nothing about this kind of thing,” Abdullah said. “I’m not one of their fraternity at all.”
“He certainly is not,” Billy Robinson said disdainfully. “And I stick to cards. But I